The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Tug of Love

When Imogen returned home, the Mayor was already asleep. She changed, brushed her teeth, and slipped under their duvet. Even pressing her forehead into his warm shoulder and counting claymation-like sheep in her head didn't lull her to sleep until four in the morning, and the next day she woke up groggy and miserable.

When she finally dragged herself to the kitchen in search of coffee, it turned out the Mayor had already left for the gym. Kathy and Brian were playing Throw Throw Burrito on the drawing room carpet due to the heavy rain outside, loudly drumming on the windows of their cottage. Imogen made herself a large mug of excessively sweet chai, wrapped in her favourite afghan on the sofa, pulled her knees to her chest, and started to think.

By the time the Mayor was back, she had her decision.

"It's baltic outside," the man muttered, leaned in, and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "Who's hungry?" he asked the little'uns.

With loud 'me, me, me!' the children rushed to the kitchen.

"Do you mind starting the lunch?" he asked Imogen. "I'd like a quick shower first."

Imogen hummed in agreement and cleared her throat.

"John, there's something I need to talk to you about," she said quietly, and he froze, mid-pulling off his jumper.

His tee hiked up, baring his hard stomach with its perfect furry strip in the middle, going down into his denim, and Imogen sighed. Having decided to fess up regarding her (nota bene) involuntary sleuthing efforts - she wasn't repeating the mistake of last year's double manslaughter and burglary investigation! - she felt temporarily unworthy of getting her hands on the Mayor's, admittedly mouth-watering, physique.

"Yes?" he said and made a few funny full-body wiggling motions, as if dancing samba. "Sorry, could you pull my sleeve, please? I think I'm stuck."

Imogen grabbed the sleeve and tried to untangle the Mayor out of the wet garment.

"I parked too far from the gym," he explained in a muffled voice somewhere inside his cotton and cashmere trap.

The Mayor pulled, Imogen pulled. No result followed.

"So, you see, John, regarding my newly found family–" Imogen muttered.

The Mayor made another shimmy with his wide shoulder.

"And your sister as well–" Imogen continued.

The Mayor bent down, and started backing up, clearly hoping to leave the jumper in Imogen's grip. Instead, she was dragged after him like on a leash.

"And actually, my old family as well–" Imogen added and dug her heels into the floor.

The jumper, seemingly forever attached to the tee, was now immobile between them, while the two of them tugged - and then Imogen squeaked and fell backwards, with the Mayor's clothes in her hand. Her tailbone met the floor with a loud thud - she didn't have much flesh around this part of her anatomy to cushion her fall - and she whined.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry!" the Mayor exclaimed and knelt in front of her. "Darling, are you hurt?"

Suddenly Imogen felt quite emotional - probably, due to the sharp pain shooting through her spine - and she sniffled. She'd fractured her pelvis at the age of ten, having plummeted with her bike into the infamous Whitlaw Fall, a deep ravine near the Forest Road outside Fleckney Woulds. The fracture had healed, but sometimes Imogen's hips were still giving her grief.

"I'm–" Imogen sniffled again. "I'm so sorry but I just need to–" Tears rolled over her eyes, and Imogen made a distressed noise. "I need to tell you–"